Diana Palmer Texan Lovers: Calhoun / Justin / Tyler / Sutton's Way / Ethan / Connal. Diana Palmer
talk about things like that with you,” she confessed. “I was young and hopelessly naive.”
He stared at her narrowly, his black eyes glittering. “I frightened you the night we got engaged, didn’t I?” he asked suddenly. “That was why you pulled back—not because I disgusted you.”
She caught her breath audibly. “You never disgusted me!” she burst out, hurting for him. “Oh, Justin, no! You didn’t think that?”
“We didn’t know very much about each other, Shelby,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “I suppose we both had false ideas. I saw you as a sophisticated, elegant society woman. And while I knew you were innocent, I thought you’d had some experience with men. If I’d had any idea of what you’ve just told me, I damned sure wouldn’t have been that demanding with you.”
She went red and averted her eyes. She couldn’t find the right words. Amazing, that they were married and she was twenty-seven years old, and this kind of talk could still embarrass her.
“I was afraid you couldn’t stop,” she murmured evasively.
He sighed heavily and lifted his coffee cup to his lips, draining it. “So was I,” he said unexpectedly. “It was touch and go for a few seconds, at that. I’d gone hungry for a long time.”
“I didn’t think men had to, these days,” she said softly. “I mean, society is so permissive and all.”
“Society may be permissive. I’m not,” he said flatly. His black eyes flashed at her. “I never was, in the way you mean. A gentleman doesn’t seduce virgins—or take advantage of women who don’t know the score. That leaves party girls.” He held the cup in his big, lean hands, smoothing over it with his thumb. “And just to be frank, honey, the type never appealed very much to me.”
Her soft eyes searched over his hard features, lingering on his chiseled mouth.
“I guess you never lacked offers, all the same,” she said, letting her gaze fall to her lap again.
“I’m rich.” There was cool cynicism in the words. “Sure, I get offers.” He studied her face calculatingly. “In fact, Shelby, I had one while I was in New Mexico last week, wedding ring and all.”
Her teeth clenched. She didn’t want him to see that it bothered her, but it was hard to hide. “Did you?”
He put the cup down. “You’re as possessive about me as I am about you,” he said then, surprising her gaze up to lock with his in a slow, electric exchange. “You don’t like the thought of other women making eyes at me, do you, Shelby?”
She crossed her legs. “No,” she said honestly.
He smiled mockingly as he lit another cigarette. “Well, if it’s any comfort, I froze her out. I won’t cheat on you, honey.”
“I never thought you would,” she replied. “Any more than I’d cheat on you.”
“That would be the eighth wonder of the world,” he remarked with deceptive softness, “considering your hang-ups. We’ve been married for almost two weeks, and you still look like a sacrificial lamb every time I come near you.”
She drew in a slow, steadying breath. “Yes, I know,” she said miserably. She smiled bitterly. “I’m aware of my own failings, Justin. I guess you won’t believe it, but you can’t possibly blame me any more than I blame myself for what I am.”
He scowled. He hadn’t meant to put her on the defensive. His pride was stung and he was striking out. But he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. He’d done enough of that already.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said on a weary breath. “It’s the way things happened, that’s all.” He looked his age for a minute, his expression bleak, his dark eyes haunted. “You savaged my pride, Shelby. It’s taken a long time to put it behind me. I guess I haven’t, just yet.”
“I didn’t get off scot-free, either,” she murmured. Her thin shoulders slumped. “I’ve had my share of grief over what I did.”
“Why?” he asked shortly.
She closed her eyes and winced. “I did it for your sake,” she whispered.
He let out an angry breath. “Well, that’s a new tack, at least.” He ground out the half-finished cigarette and got to his feet. “I’ve got some paperwork to do before Maria gets supper on the table.” He paused beside her chair, watching the way she stiffened as he got close to her. He reached down and caught a handful of her long hair, dragging her head back so that he could see her eyes. “Fear,” he ground out, searching them. “That’s all I ever see in your eyes when I come near you. Well, don’t sweat it, honey. You won’t be called on to make the supreme sacrifice. I’m not desperate!”
He let her go and moved past her with anger in every line of his powerful body, without another word or a backward glance.
Shelby felt the tears come and she didn’t stop them. He didn’t know why she was afraid, and she couldn’t tell him. He just assumed that she withdrew because she didn’t want him. Nothing was further from the truth. She did, desperately. But she wanted him controlled and gentle, and she remembered how it had been when he wasn’t.
She got up from the table and went up to her room to spend a few quiet minutes before they ate getting herself back together again. It was so hard to talk to him, to get around his growing impatience. Her rejection was doing terrible things to him, and even now she felt protective. She wanted to give him what he wanted, to erase those hard lines from his face. But she was so frightened of the demands he might make on her.
If only she could tell him. But her sheltered background made it too embarrassing to explain why she was the way she was. Until she could find a way to make him understand, it was going to put an even worse strain on their marriage.
If Shelby had hoped to find Justin less angry over dinner, she was doomed to disappointment. He sat at the head of the table like a stone man, barely speaking through the meal. She couldn’t talk to him. She didn’t know what to say.
Afterward, he went out the door without a word and Shelby felt a sense of utter desperation. If only she could go to him and put her arms around him, explain how she felt, why she was the way she was. But would he believe her, with their past?
Misery wrapped around her like a blanket. She got her purse and went out to her car. If Justin thought she was going to sit around by herself for what was left of the evening, he could just think again.
She started the sports car, revved the engine, backed out and roared away. The wonderful thing about the little car was the delicious feel of its controlled speed. She loved the straight road, the sense of freedom she felt with the wind in her long hair, the exhilaration of being alone with her thoughts.
Justin hated her, but that was nothing new. He always had. She’d hurt him and he was never going to forgive her. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to marry him; it was never going to work out. She’d been a fool to go through with it in the first place, so she had only herself to blame for her present misery.
She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the stop sign until she was on it, and the loud baritone of a truck’s horn made her blood freeze.
A huge transfer-trailer truck was barreling down the highway. Shelby’s little car wasn’t going to be fast enough to beat that mammoth vehicle across the intersection, and it was touch and go if she’d be able to stop at all.
With her heart in her throat, and the numb certainty of death stiffening her body, she hit the brake. The car went into a spin, the squeal of tires terrible in the later afternoon stillness, her face frozen with terror as she lost control and the sky went around and around and around…
The car spun into the deep ditch and leaned drunkenly sideways,